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Friday, 4 October 2013

A Basic Desire

by Denis Fitzpatrick, (c) 2013Simultaneously splendid and utterly
decrepit the half burned shell of 23 Lexitor Avenue, Standmore, in Aus’ usually
sunny Sydney, was just the spot for the wandering Audric. Here was the much
needed house, half charred, overgrown ruins, and with its other half well
retaining the aspects of a modest mansion; a veritably perfect mirror to his
opposing, clashing thoughts.

‘Yes, indeed!’ There was no-one around to
tell Audric, only twenty-three, that he shouldn’t talk to himself. In fact,
Audric had often to rely on his own conversations within this chosen life of wandering,
vague searching. ‘Yes, indeed! We can solve this problem once and for all!’
Audric also tended to use the royal singular in these conversations with
himself.

Soon after M. Audric Dearl Beauchene had
discovered this house he had come back often to wistfully stare at its two
potent halves: one, a blackened destruction, the other, an open promise of easy
living. This half had a leather armchair and the water in the adjoining kitchen
still worked. He had checked once, the only time he had been onto the property.
He didn’t notice the police station nearby when he was leaving, water refilled.
It would be nice, thought Audric, to just cross the warning tape and sit on
that armchair. Cook a little on the stove, listen to his radio or plug in his
portable CD player, recharge his mobile the more easily. But no, the
electricity is probably cut off. At the end of the evening he could head up to
the only remaining room on the first floor, apparently a bedroom.

‘The fresh air! The view!’ Such were some
of the possibilities he imagined in that distraught domicile, believing he
could think from the prominence of that bedroom, think clearly and finally name
that thing worthy to spend one’s life in striving for.

Audric was once again outside this house on
the first day of Sydney’s colder than usual 2012 winter, idly imagining its
balanced possibilities, but this time he had his swag with him. He smiled, and
looked around, preparatory to trespassing. It was then he noticed the police
station. He continued his survey around him and decided to assume that because
he could see no officers no officers could see him.

He entered confidently and assuming
himself to be still undiscovered he placed his swag in a shattered bedroom and
had a good look around the place. He settled in easily enough then and read
until evening in the perfectly good leather armchair, in his warm dark overcoat,
a glass of water beside him on a small table, outside under broad, leafy banana
trees, jacaranda trees, and tall, stately eucalyptus trees.

He passed his first night without bother,
and drifted off thinking that a large crisis had been averted. More likely
though that it had just begun.

*

Audric set about the final stage (or was
it just the middle?) of his aim to wrest meaning from Life methodically,
keeping track of, and keeping more or less equal, the amount of his time spent
in the dark, listless half, and the alluring, elegant half of Lexitor Avenue.

His plan was simple: spend the first
twelve hours of the day in the charred, ruined section, the time spent in
foreseeing an easy life, no commitments and absolutely no worries. His first
whole twelve hours among the ruins he began with an expensive bottle of Shiraz,
completely letting himself go.

The times amongst the sheltered and fairly
intact reign of the nightly twelve hours was spent without alcohol. He used part
of the twelve hours to write in his journal, and in drawing. In his journal he
would often suggest goals, aspirations that had always inspired him as a child,
in an attempt to reawaken this prior motivation. To no avail. The entries
invariably ended on a hollow note, promising him something that should really
already be here.

Audric
had been at Lexitor for a little under three weeks when the local police paid
him a visit. Audric was cross-legged among the charcoal and soot drinking a
coffee, black, when they called over.

‘Need to have quick word with ya, mate,’
said the lead officer, lifting the warning tape.

‘Sure thing,’ replied Audric, standing up
from the rubble. They met on the veranda.

‘You know you’re trespassing, mate.’

‘Yes, officer. I’ll leave now.’

‘Hang on a minute.’ The officer waited
until his partner returned to his side after a quick survey of the premises.

‘Would you like to stay here, mate? Free?’

‘The place is helping me think.’

‘Think about what?’

‘If there’s a purpose to my life.’

‘Well we can give you as long as you
need.’

Audric looked at him sceptically.

‘My partner here, Laura, spotted you here
yesterday and after informing the owner of the land he’s offered you a deal.’

‘What’s the deal?’

‘You can stay here rent free as long as
you act as guard.’

‘Guard?’

‘The owner, a Councillor, plans to develop
the site into a boarding house and wants someone onsite to ward off the
inevitable protestors.’

‘I can’t keep them all off.’

‘If things get bad he’s given me a number
for you to call. Do you have a phone?’

‘Yes.’

‘Well, mate?’

Audric considered for a short while.

‘Can I think about it,’ Audric asked the
officer.

‘Sure. We’ll be back in three days either
to evict you or to give you that number.’

‘Thanks, officer.’

The Police left him and Audric returned to
his pile of ash.

‘Yet more to think of,’ he said to
himself, sipping his still warm coffee.

*

The immediate benefit of this newly
offered job, often thought Audric over his next two days of wandering from one
side of the house to the other, is that it would give him a palpable sense of
certainty. He could then afford to sit back and give the matter of his life’s
goal the serious deliberation that it deserved. And when he had finally
achieved his revelation he could just pack up and set off in the suggested
direction.

Hehad decided by the time he awoke on the third morning of his bequeathed
grace: he would take the job. But only on the proviso that he was free to leave
at any time. Thus, after begging up the morning’s two dollars for some hot
chips, he headed off to the police station in search of Laura, the other
officer’s name not being offered and he wearing a badge with a number instead
of a name. He duly received the phone number quickly, enthusing him
unexpectedly.

Upon returning home he instantly headed
for the bright half of the house and made himself a coffee. He was still
enthused. Maybe it was time to clean up the other half of the house, bring some
semblance of order into it? The place really just needed a good sweep and some
furniture here and there. It’ll shine up a treat in the summer; a splendid
place to sit and read of an evening.

‘Yes, it does need a clean. We’ll have the
coffee first.’

And when he was sweeping up (the house
already having a broom) he realised that his life was not that bad after all.
He too will assuredly come up shining if he sets his mind to some noble goal.
In fact, from now one he would spend all of his time in the bright half of the
house. He would choose several goals, to be a painter, a sculptor, maybe finish
off his Science degree, and try each out for a few days. He would by sheer
elimination, and sheer steadfastness, come across a vocation, a calling, which
he was just naturally good at.

The protestors never arrived and Audric
spent the next six months in attempting a lot of careers, starting off by
busking his own canvasses, all of which he painted in the bright side of
Lexitor. He enjoyed the novel experiences of all of his experimented careers,
usually done through volunteer work, and
also enjoyed having to shower more regularly now that he was more engaged in
society.

His ‘lease’ ran out, naturally, the
Councillor’s personal assistant telling him that the house was to be demolished
in a week. That was three weeks ago today and Audric had packed up and left
early. He hasn’t found a worthwhile life-goal yet, is still searching, but his
searching has brought him many unexpected achievements. He is currently
volunteering at the local vet’s. He has also often told friends that Lexitor
was his favourite squat despite it being a husk.

‘It was the perfecting sounding board for
my angst.’

He has also now taken up meditation and
spends such time in imagining himself continuing to be comfortable and
motivated forever. He invariably smiles while doing so and that same smile
comes back of its own accord throughout the day, the days which he now spends
fruitfully.